4

The Monster Men

by Edgar R. Burroughs

4, THE MONSTER MEN by Edgar R. Burroughs
An eText from LiteratureClassics.com.

Please see the eText readme for important copyright information (available from the options menu above if you are browsing online or as a separate file in the archive if you are browsing offline.)



A NEW FACE


As Professor Maxon and von Horn rushed from the
workshop to their own campong, they neglected, in their
haste, to lock the door between, and for the first time
since the camp was completed it stood unlatched and ajar.

The professor had been engaged in taking careful
measurements of the head of his latest experiment, the
while he coached the young man in the first rudiments
of spoken language, and now the subject of his labors
found himself suddenly deserted and alone. He had not
yet been without the four walls of the workshop, as the
professor had wished to keep him from association with
the grotesque results of his earlier experiments, and
now a natural curiosity tempted him to approach the
door through which his creator and the man with the
bull whip had so suddenly disappeared.

He saw before him a great walled enclosure roofed by a
lofty azure dome, and beyond the walls the tops of
green trees swaying gently in the soft breezes. His
nostrils tasted the incense of fresh earth and growing
things. For the first time he felt the breath of
Nature, free and unconfined, upon his brow.

He drew his giant frame to its full height and drank
in the freedom and the sweetness of it all, filling his
great lungs to their fullest; and with the first taste
he learned to hate the close and stuffy confines of his prison.

His virgin mind was filled with wonder at the wealth of
new impressions which surged to his brain through every
sense. He longed for more, and the open gateway of the
campong was a scarce needed invitation to pass to the
wide world beyond. With the free and easy tread of
utter unconsciousness of self, he passed across the
enclosure and stepped out into the clearing which lay
between the palisade and the jungle.

Ah, here was a still more beautiful world! The green
leaves nodded to him, and at their invitation he came
and the jungle reached out its million arms to embrace
him. Now before him, behind, on either side there was
naught but glorious green beauty shot with splashes of
gorgeous color that made him gasp in wonderment.

Brilliant birds rose from amidst it all, skimming
hither and thither above his head--he thought that the
flowers and the birds were the same, and when he
reached out and plucked a blossom, tenderly,
he wondered that it did not flutter in his hand.
On and on he walked, but slowly, for he must not miss
a single sight in the strange and wonderful place; and then,
of a sudden, the quiet beauty of the scene was harshly
broken by the crashing of a monster through the underbrush.

Number Thirteen was standing in a little open place in
the jungle when the discordant note first fell upon his ears,
and as he turned his head in the direction of the sound
he was startled at the hideous aspect of the thing which
broke through the foliage before him.

What a horrid creature! But on the same instant his eyes
fell upon another borne in the arms of the terrible one.
This one was different--very different,-- soft and
beautiful and white. He wondered what it all meant,
for everything was strange and new to him;
but when he saw the eyes of the lovely one upon him,
and her arms outstretched toward him, though he did
not understand the words upon her lips, he knew that
she was in distress. Something told him that it was the
ugly thing that carried her that was the author of her suffering.

Virginia Maxon had been half unconscious from fright
when she suddenly saw a white man, clothed in coarse,
white, native pajamas, confronting her and the
misshapen beast that was bearing her away to what
frightful fate she could but conjecture.

At the sight of the man her voice returned with
returning hope, and she reached her arms toward him,
calling upon him to save her. Although he did not
respond she thought that he understood for he sprang
toward them before her appeal was scarce uttered.

As before, when Sing had threatened to filch his new
possession from him, Number One held the girl with one
hand while he met the attack of this new assailant with
the other; but here was very different metal than had
succumbed to him before.

It is true that Number Thirteen knew nothing whatever
of personal combat, but Number One had but little
advantage of him in the matter of experience, while the
former was equipped with great natural intelligence as
well as steel muscles no whit less powerful than his
deformed predecessor.

So it was that the awful giant found his single hand
helpless to cope with the strength of his foeman, and
in a brief instant felt powerful fingers clutching at
his throat. Still reluctant to surrender his hold upon
his prize, he beat futilely at the face of his enemy,
but at last the agony of choking compelled him to drop
the girl and grapple madly with the man who choked him
with one hand and rained mighty and merciless blows
upon his face and head with the other.

His captive sank to the ground, too weak from the
effects of nervous shock to escape, and with horror-
filled eyes watched the two who battled over her. She
saw that her would-be rescuer was young and strong
featured--all together a very fine specimen of manhood;
and to her great wonderment it was soon apparent that
he was no unequal match for the great mountain of
muscle that he fought.

Both tore and struck and clawed and bit in the frenzy
of mad, untutored strife, rolling about on the soft
carpet of the jungle almost noiselessly except for
their heavy breathing and an occasional beast-like
snarl from Number One. For several minutes they fought
thus until the younger man succeeded in getting both
hands upon the throat of his adversary, and then,
choking relentlessly, he raised the brute with him from
the ground and rushed him fiercely backward against the
stem of a tree. Again and again he hurled the
monstrous thing upon the unyielding wood, until at last
it hung helpless and inert in his clutches, then he
cast it from him, and without another glance at it
turned toward the girl.

Here was a problem indeed. Now that he had won her,
what was he to do with her? He was but an adult child,
with the brain and brawn of a man, and the ignorance
and inexperience of the new-born. And so he acted as a
child acts, in imitation of what it has seen others do.
The brute had been carrying the lovely creature,
therefore that must be the thing for him to do, and so
he stooped and gathered Virginia Maxon in his great arms.

She tried to tell him that she could walk after a
moment's rest, but it was soon evident that he did not
understand her, as a puzzled expression came to his
face and he did not put her down as she asked. Instead
he stood irresolute for a time, and then moved slowly
through the jungle. By chance his direction was toward
the camp, and this fact so relieved the girl's mind that
presently she was far from loath to remain quietly in his arms.

After a moment she gained courage to look up into his
face. She thought that she never had seen so
marvellously clean cut features, or a more high and
noble countenance, and she wondered how it was that
this white man was upon the island and she not have
known it. Possibly he was a new arrival--his presence
unguessed even by her father. That he was neither
English nor American was evident from the fact that he
could not understand her native tongue. Who could he
be! What was he doing upon their island!

As she watched his face he suddenly turned his eyes
down upon her, and as she looked hurriedly away she was
furious with herself as she felt a crimson flush mantle
her cheek. The man only half sensed, in a vague sort
of way, the meaning of the tell tale color and the
quickly averted eyes; but he became suddenly aware of
the pressure of her delicate body against his, as he
had not been before. Now he kept his eyes upon her
face as he walked, and a new emotion filled his breast.
He did not understand it, but it was very pleasant, and
he knew that it was because of the radiant thing that
he carried in his arms.

The scream that had startled von Horn and Professor
Maxon led them along the trail toward the east coast of
the island, and about halfway of the distance they
stumbled upon the dazed and bloody Sing just as he was
on the point of regaining consciousness.

"For God's sake, Sing, what is the matter?" cried von Horn.
"Where is Miss Maxon?"

"Big blute, he catchem Linee. Tly kill Sing. Head hit tlee.
No see any more. Wakee up--all glone," moaned the Chinaman
as he tried to gain his feet.

"Which way did he take her?" urged von Horn.

Sing's quick eyes scanned the surrounding jungle,
and in a moment, staggering to his feet, he cried,
"Look see, klick! Foot plint!" and ran, weak and
reeling drunkenly, along the broad trail made by
the giant creature and its prey.

Von Horn and Professor Maxon followed closely in
Sing's wake, the younger man horrified by the terrible
possibilities that obtruded themselves into his
imagination despite his every effort to assure himself
that no harm could come to Virginia Maxon before they
reached her. The girl's father had not spoken since
they discovered that she was missing from the campong,
but his face was white and drawn; his eyes wide and
glassy as those of one whose mind is on the verge of
madness from a great nervous shock.

The trail of the creature was bewilderingly erratic.
A dozen paces straight through the underbrush, then a
sharp turn at right angles for no apparent reason, only
to veer again suddenly in a new direction! Thus,
turning and twisting, the tortuous way led them toward
the south end of the island, until Sing, who was in
advance, gave a sharp cry of surprise.

"Klick! Look see!" he cried excitedly. "Blig blute dead--
vely muchee dead."

Von Horn rushed forward to where the Chinaman was
leaning over the body of Number One. Sure enough,
the great brute lay motionless, its horrid face even more
hideous in death than in life, if it were possible.
The face was black, the tongue protruded, the skin was
bruised from the heavy fists of his assailant and the
thick skull crushed and splintered from terrific impact
with the tree.

Professor Maxon leaned over von Horn's shoulder.
"Ah, poor Number One," he sighed, "that you should have come
to such an untimely end--my child, my child."

Von Horn looked at him, a tinge of compassion in his
rather hard face. It touched the man that his employer
was at last shocked from the obsession of his work to a
realization of the love and duty he owed his daughter;
he thought that the professor's last words referred to
Virginia.

"Though there are twelve more," continued Professor
Maxon, "you were my first born son and I loved you
most, dear child."

The younger man was horrified.

"My God, Professor!" he cried. "Are you mad? Can you
call this thing `child' and mourn over it when you do
not yet know the fate of your own daughter?"

Professor Maxon looked up sadly. "You do not
understand, Dr. von Horn," he replied coldly, "and you
will oblige me, in the future, by not again referring
to the offspring of my labors as `things.'"

With an ugly look upon his face von Horn turned his
back upon the older man--what little feeling of loyalty
and affection he had ever felt for him gone forever.
Sing was looking about for evidences of the cause of
Number One's death and the probable direction in which
Virginia Maxon had disappeared.

"What on earth could have killed this enormous brute, Sing?
Have you any idea?" asked von Horn.

The Chinaman shook his head.

"No savvy," he replied. "Blig flight. Look see,"
and he pointed to the torn and trampled turf,
the broken bushes, and to one or two small trees
that had been snapped off by the impact of the two
mighty bodies that had struggled back and forth
about the little clearing.

"This way," cried Sing presently, and started off once
more into the brush, but this time in a northwesterly
direction, toward camp.

In silence the three men followed the new trail,
all puzzled beyond measure to account for the death
of Number One at the hands of what must have been a
creature of superhuman strength. What could it have
been! It was impossible that any of the Malays or
lascars could have done the thing, and there were no
other creatures, brute or human, upon the island large
enough to have coped even for an instant with the
ferocious brutality of the dead monster, except--
von Horn's brain came to a sudden halt at the thought.
Could it be? There seemed no other explanation.
Virginia Maxon had been rescued from one soulless
monstrosity to fall into the hands of another equally
irresponsible and terrifying.

Others then must have escaped from the campong.
Von Horn loosened his guns in their holsters,
and took a fresh grip upon his bull whip as he
urged Sing forward upon the trail. He wondered
which one it was, but not once did it occur to him
that the latest result of Professor Maxon's experiments
could be the rescuer of Virginia Maxon. In his mind he
could see only the repulsive features of one of the others.

Quite unexpectedly they came upon the two, and with a
shout von Horn leaped forward, his bull whip upraised.
Number Thirteen turned in surprise at the cry, and
sensing a new danger for her who lay in his arms,
he set her gently upon the ground behind him
and advanced to meet his assailant.

"Out of the way, you--monstrosity," cried von Horn.
"If you have harmed Miss Maxon I'll put a bullet in
your heart!"

Number Thirteen did not understand the words that the
other addressed to him but he interpreted the man's
actions as menacing, not to himself, but to the
creature he now considered his particular charge;
and so he met the advancing man, more to keep him from
the girl than to offer him bodily injury for he recognized
him as one of the two who had greeted his first dawning
consciousness.

Von Horn, possibly intentionally, misinterpreted the
other's motive, and raising his bull whip struck Number
Thirteen a vicious cut across the face, at the same time
levelling his revolver point blank at the broad beast.
But before ever he could pull the trigger an avalanche
of muscle was upon him, and he went down to the rotting
vegetation of the jungle with five sinewy fingers at his throat.

His revolver exploded harmlessly in the air, and then
another hand wrenched it from him and hurled it far
into the underbrush. Number Thirteen knew nothing of
the danger of firearms, but the noise had startled him
and his experience with the stinging cut of the bull
whip convinced him that this other was some sort of
instrument of torture of which it would be as well to
deprive his antagonist.

Virginia Maxon looked on in horror as she realized that
her rescuer was quickly choking Dr. von Horn to death.
With a little cry she sprang to her feet and ran toward them,
just as her father emerged from the underbrush through
which he had been struggling in the trail of the agile
Chinaman and von Horn. Placing her hand upon the great
wrist of the giant she tried to drag his fingers from
von Horn's throat, pleading meanwhile with both voice
and eyes for the life of the man she thought loved her.

Again Number Thirteen translated the intent without
understanding the words, and releasing von Horn
permitted him to rise. With a bound he was upon his
feet and at the same instant brought his other gun from
his side and levelled it upon the man who had released him;
but as his finger tightened upon the trigger Virginia Maxon
sprang between them and grasping von Horn's wrist deflected
the muzzle of the gun just as the cartridge exploded.
Simultaneously Professor Maxon sprang from his grasp
and hurled him back with the superhuman strength of a maniac.

"Fool!" he cried. "What would you do? Kill--,"
and then of a sudden he realized his daughter's presence
and the necessity for keeping the origin of the young
giant from her knowledge.

"I am surprised at you, Dr. von Horn," he continued in
a more level voice. "You must indeed have forgotten
yourself to thus attack a stranger upon our island
until you know whether he be friend or foe. Come!
Escort my daughter to the camp, while I make the proper
apologies to this gentleman." As he saw that both
Virginia and von Horn hesitated, he repeated his command
in a peremptory tone, adding; "Quick, now; do as I bid you."

The moment had given von Horn an opportunity to regain
his self-control, and realizing as well as did his employer,
but from another motive, the necessity of keeping the truth
from the girl, he took her arm and led her gently from the scene.
At Professor Maxon's direction Sing accompanied them.

Now in Number Thirteen's brief career he had known no
other authority than Professor Maxon's, and so it was
that when his master laid a hand upon his wrist he
remained beside him while another walked away with the
lovely creature he had thought his very own.

Until after dark the professor kept the young man
hidden in the jungle, and then, safe from detection,
led him back to the laboratory.